From the Ground Up
by BeWhoYouAreScrewEverythingElse
Summary: Sequel to Rebuilding. (Recommended to read first but not necessary). Lily's twelve now, which means she starts learning about "the history" in school. She's doesn't it know it yet, but she's at an advantage with her parent's having already taught her about it. But what about the other students? Crappy summary, will probably change it later. Please R & R.
1. Impending

**Oh hello everyone. I've been on hiatus for awhile but I'm back with the sequel to Rebuilding (I always hated that name). If you haven't read that story than I think you'll be okay with reading this. Only okay, it still may be super confusing and so I **_**highly**_** recommend you read Rebuilding. Not 100% sure. And I'm also not sure whether to put this under Katniss/Peeta or their children, even though it's technically the children's POV. I`ll do Katniss/Peeta for now, and might decide to change it later. Updates will be every two weeks (about). Enjoy.**

I hate this. I hate the games. I hate everything.

My mother says it`s not good to hate, but I do. I hate what the world has done to them, is still doing to them. It`s beyond cruel and unfair and it angers me so much sometimes that I can`t see straight.

I`ve stopped asking mom to do my hair now. If I`m old enough to get reaped then I`m old enough to tie my own hair. I take an early morning bath and force a brush through my wet curls, demanding that they lie flat. They do a little but not as much as I want, but at least it`s better than trying to brush them when they`re dry. I sigh heavily on the edge of my bathtub, and rub my hands along the porcelain surface. I remember them telling me that bath water was sparse and shared by their entire family once a week, and here I am, a life of luxury. It makes me angry and I rush so that I don`t make it too dirty. Since I`ve learned the significance of baths I`ve insisted on giving Ash`s his every morning. I work as fast as I can so I`ll only have to add a little bit of hot water so that it`s warm for him. No point in wasting good water.

Mom of course refused at first but she doesn`t seem to mind anymore. Dad goes to the bakery very early and now mom can go hunting at the same time. They`re both back to make and serve breakfast and I can get Ash ready for the day. I like this routine, it makes me feel responsible, like I can do something to help my parents. They deserve it.

Ash is five now and he`s so well-mannered that I`m pretty sure I could pick him up by his ears and he still wouldn`t complain. So giving him his bath is easy, it`s more about waking him up.

He starts school today, and I know he`s really nervous. So this might actually be difficult for once. I almost forget my own fears over starting secondary school. Almost.

There are only two types of school in District 12, which is mostly due to the small population. Elementary school is for ages five to eleven, while secondary school is for twelve to eighteen. First year of secondary school is when we start learning history. It would be better (cheaper) for the district if all ages were just in the same school, but I guess they want to try and stop older students from slipping up once they learn _the history_.

I get out of the bath and I quickly braid my hair in the familiar pattern and it stays together well enough when it`s wet. I look in the mirror and remind myself that this is what the daughter of veterans look like. The soft cheekbones, blue eyes and curls are the only semblance that I am my father`s daughter, everything else is Katniss right down to the braid. I know other students will look at me, even point, but I steel myself; if my Aunt Prim can be a war nurse than I can make it through a day of blank stares.

I used to compare myself to my parents but they refused saying that they were older and that all experiences are hard, other people having different ones doesn`t mean that mine aren`t significant. So I secretly compare my resolve to Aunt Prim, she would`ve been around the same age.

I walk over to his bedroom and I see Asher under his blankets, lying flat on his stomach with fingers and toes peeking out the edge of his bed. I used to sleep like that, but now I wrap myself up tight, not allowing a single limb to ease out of the covers.

I shake him lightly and he mumbles something, I`m not sure what. I decide to just pick him up and he nestles him head under my chin as we walk to the bathroom. I strip his clothes off and put him in the warm water, and he seems to perk up a bit. I get the soap and get to work washing his golden curls. I wish I had them, but I also fear that I`d look too much like my aunt Prim, even though her hair was straight.

Ash starts playing with one of the boats I plopped in earlier. He`s so innocent, he doesn`t know, and he`ll have to learn someday. I hate that. Why do bad things always happen to good people?

Ash whimpers a little and I realize that I`ve grabbed his head too roughly. I coo at him in apology and kiss his soapy forehead. That placates him, not that it would`ve taken much.

I rinse him off before taking him out of the tub and patting him dry lightly. He attempts to help but mostly just slows down the process. He walks back quickly to his bedroom stark naked which never fails to make me laugh. This routine is comforting, but I know it will change. He won`t be a baby for much longer, and I might be fine with seeing him naked now, but I definitely won`t be in a few years. I wish he could be a baby forever and stay young and naïve. It`d be a better, happier life. Well, at least I think so.

I hear mom coming in through the front door and I know dad will be here soon. I rush to get Ash dressed and ready for the day, trying to brush his curls down a little as well.

I look into the mirror one last time with Ash in my arms. I change my mind. We are not the children of veterans. We are the children of survivors.

**So I hoped you all enjoyed this. I liked writing it. More chapters to come. Mostly revolved around Lily, and some Ash. A lot to do with school and history and how the district has and hasn`t changed. Please read and review if you like. It`s not too confusing yet if you haven`t read Rebuilding, but it might get confusing later. I`m not totally sure to tell you the truth. Have a good week!**

**Sincerely,**

**BeWho**


	2. Learning

It's funny how sometimes you'll walk into a room and you feel like all eyes would be on you. It's funny when you have to expect that to happen. It's weird when it doesn't.

I know right know that I almost look like the exact replica of Katniss Everdeen, with the exception of the blue eyes. My hair is pulled so tight and is still wet so my curls aren't even showing through.

My classmates sit and laugh. Some play while others sneak snacks and who knows what else behind the bleachers. How are they so calm? Don't they know what today is? Don't they know what's about to happen?

I see many of the parents dropping off children with grim expressions, ones that their children don't seem to notice. Older students look our way and give us looks of pity. That is when it hits me, they don't know. No one has told them. I feel so sick that I start to feel light-headed; I haven't felt this terrible since I found out.

Father must notice my anxiety as the hand he holds tightens in my grasp. I don't care what the other children say, I love holding his hand. He's big and strong; it makes me feel like I could be too, because I'm his daughter.

He leans down a few inches and kisses me on the forehead.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?" I just nod my head, solemn. He knows why.

I see Marissa and Clare sitting by a nearby tree so I decide to head over there.

I like Mary a lot, and I like that I made up her nickname. She's quiet and mild-mannered, sometimes we read together and we don't always have to talk. She has red curls that are always crowding her small pale face, sometimes you can barely see the freckles scattered along her cheekbones.

Clare is much different. She is loud and talkative sort. It's surprising actually that Mary and I are friends with her, but for all her spunk she's a good person. Her skin is like the colour of honey and looks incredibly smooth. Sometimes I want to ask her if I can touch it, but I know that would be weird. Her hair is short and black, which frames her lovely hazel eyes well. She's also tall, and doesn't seem to be going through the awkward phase of puberty that we're all experiencing right now. It makes me a little jealous.

"Are you ready for today?" I ask, testing my hypothesis.

"Well, it's a new subject, so I'm fairly excited." Mary gives me a meek smile, which I can't even attempt to give back.

"Meh, I'm sure it will be boring like anything else." Clare moans dramatically. I want to scream at her to give our soldiers some respect, but how is she supposed to know?

I know they can both tell that I am off, I have been for the past week.

"Are you worried about doing well, Lily?" Mary asks softly. "I'm sure you will, there's nothing to be scared of." Her words do nothing to sooth me and I can't help but reply.

"Mary, there is a lot to be scared of." My eyes bore into hers, desperate for her to understand. Of course she doesn't and just looks confused.

Clare then tries to make me laugh for awhile but I guess she learns that it's a lost cause pretty fast. The morning bell eventually rings and I trudge inside slowly, regretfully.

The teacher looks like she is in her mid-forties. She is absolutely beautiful with long smooth red hair which goes along with a tanned complexion; she was probably from District 4. My mom says I have an eye for beauty like my dad, and that I notice appearances and flowers a lot especially.

Last week I saw a boy with almost-black, curly hair above his head, almond-shaped eyes, and the most peculiar look on his face. It was like he was trying to solve a puzzle but trying to look like he wasn't. I ended up staring at him for almost five minutes before Clare noticed my lack of attention and started teasing me about liking boys. It's not that I'm actually attracted to boys right now, it's just that I like looking at pretty things, and things can include people.

The teacher looks at me as I settle into my seat, I notice her intake of breath as I take a seat near the back row; feeling guilty for not taking a front seat to hide the horrors from my classmates. She seems shaky as she waits for everyone to take a seat; many students start taking out notebooks and pencil.

"I'm sorry students, but I'll be asking you to put those away. You won't be needing them in this class." A hush falls around the room, confusion stirring.

"The purpose of this class is to educate you all on a set period of history, when this country was in quite a bit of turmoil. I'm going to start the class by showing a short video first." The class gets excited and all I feel is sick. I sink in my seat, hoping to avoid this all if I can. I think its better that I know more than the others, but I don't want to have to relearn this all again.

A song plays on the screen that I don't recognize, and a symbol representing the Capitol appears. A voice is heard that starts talking about the 40th Hunger Games, and I have never been more grateful that they didn't show the 50th, 74th, or 75th. I don't want them to know yet. I'm not ashamed, I never will be. But I'm not ready for them all to know who I truly am.

In the video they blacked out the violent footage, I wonder if they'll show us again later without it. All I know is that these teenagers seem terrifying, and both my parents were them, twice.

There is an audible silence as the film runs out, my classmates not being sure how to react. The teacher just waits, which is good because it lets us process. A boy near the front that I don't recognize slowly raises his hand.

"Was that...real?" He asks, voice hollow and detached. I'm not sure if it's because he's emotional or puberty, but his voice almost breaks when he said real. The room is buzzed and heavy, children begging for this not to exist.

The teacher only manages to say yes before the chaos breaks out.

**Author's note: I hope you guys like this so far, I'm going to try and keep it interesting. I plan to write a few chapters for Lily and then skip forward to Ash being older. Katniss and Peeta will definitely be involved. **


	3. Igniting

**I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.**

Devastation is probably the best word to use right now. Students are scared and confused; the teacher is struggling to round them up and continuing with the lesson plan. I know that her efforts can only help so much. What do you expect when you tell a dozen or so preteens that children not long ago used to fight to the death for a competition, children our age. If this had just been a novel and not real life parents would be outraged if their children read such things. But this isn't a story, this is real. This is our life.

A girl with strawberry blond hair has gone into remission, holding her legs to her chest and rocking back and forth with a pigtail being gnawed in her mouth.

The boy near the front who dared to ask if it was real appears to be frozen with his hand still up. From my angle across the room I can see the blankness behind his eyes. They're grey, and he has a typical Seam appearance. He reminds me of my Uncle Gale.

Another kid with curly looks runs around creating noise, I think he just wanted an excuse to be rowdy and crazy.

Clare openly weeps while Mary cries silent tears. There are some kids running around, heads darting for escape routes, like they're about to be reaped.

I pity them for awhile, but like a flit igniting I became enraged. _They don't even know anything yet; they are over-reacting to things they know nothing about. They want people to feel sorry for them but really it's the dead we should feel sorry for, and those who had to live through those times. They have no right to weep about this, it's not their life. I hate them, I hate them all._

I can see other teachers poking their heads in through the door. I expect them to come in and help but they just lightly "tsk" before leaving our poor professor at the front. She's sat down and I suppose she's just decided to let out get it all out.

_You can't hate your classmates for their ignorance. Maybe they've had families in the games that you don't know about, maybe this is bringing up past memories, don't be so quick to judge Lil._

The heat consuming me dies down quickly. _I wish I was calmer like my dad and Ash, but I just I'll just have to deal with my mother's temper. But I should take advantage of the few things I have gained from my father, besides the eyes._

I get up from my seat and immediately stand on my desk. Everyone stops making noise and looks up at me. I guess they're expecting me to dramatically jump off my desk in anguish, but that's the opposite of what I do.

"Shame on you." I say, my voice steady. "Many of you know barely anything about the Games, and yet you cry out in anguish and wish to be comforted. What have you done to deserve comfort? You've heard about some ambiguous history which is terribly corrupt and sad. You haven't been in the Games; you don't know what it's like." A voice in my head says I'm being unfair, but I power on anyway. It's something we all near to hear.

The boy with curly hair speaks up. "Neither have you, you haven't be in the Games, you don't know what it's like." He's rude and arrogant and I instantly hate him.

"As you can see, I'm not asking to be comforted. I'm listening to the teacher speak. So maybe you should take a seat, _Scott_, and _pipe the hell down_."

My emphasis on the last words causes him to quietly sulk as he returns to his seat. Other students start milling around and gradually calm down. I get down from my desk and sit in my chair, holding my hands out in front of me to give the teacher my full attention.

"Thank you Lily. I can imagine why you're so passionate about this." She shares a look with me that I wish she wouldn't. I've already put ideas in the heads of my classmates. I don't want them thinking that I know _that_ much more than them. I fidget uncomfortably in my chair.

"From now on, we will have five minute breaks after ten minutes of course material. I understand that this is hard for many of you." Our teacher scans the room as she speaks, landing on no one in particular.

"But I ask you all to respect the decisions of many people we will learn about over the next year. Many of the people we are looking at are still alive today. They had to make decisions in split seconds that could have life-long effects. Be calm, save your judgement and let's proceed."

The rest of the class is spent going over the basic rules of the games, and the power the Capitol used to have over the Districts. Very light stuff for now. It's decided that we'll only have this class three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Tuesdays and Thursdays we'll just have a free period to study.

The teacher is able to keep control, and I feel like she is better prepared now to handle these students since I took everyone down a notch. :)

It's after class when I'm heading out, the boy who looks like Uncle Gale grabs my arm lightly. I know he didn't mean to be loud when he speaks, but I feel like every classmate can hear me anyway.

"You know don't you, more than we do." It's more of a statement than a question. I pull my arm away.

"Leave me alone." With those three little words, I seal my fate.

**Author's note: Hello, I'm back from my hiatus (finally). **** Posts will be fairly frequent, hopefully once per week but I can't make any promises. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, I didn't mean to be. **


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